Chapter Text
Darth Vader was having a perfectly normal day, marked out by the usual duties and decisions that come with commanding the Executor . It was almost — almost — a good day.
Then an Alliance X-Wing dropped out of hyperspace and hailed the Executor, surrendering before they even had a chance to power weapons. Vader wasn’t particularly interested at the time — some Rebel scum who lost their nerve and were hoping to seek asylum with the Empire, no doubt. It had happened before, and it would happen again. Of course, the Executor was not normally the ship a turncoat rebel would choose to hail. Vader had a reputation, after all.
So Vader was content to stay in his meditation pod, hoping that his men would handle things and squeeze the rebel for information on Luke, as his standing orders directed.
But then.
“Lord Vader.” Admiral Piett’s perpetually on edge voice emanated from the comm inside the pod. “Lord Vader, please come in.”
A heavy sigh gusted out of Vader’s breathing apparatus. “What is it, Admiral?”
“There’s a situation, my lord. In the hangar.”
“With the rebel, I assume. Can my men not handle it?” Vader’s crew — being mostly clones that Vader had kept from decommissioning (not because he cared, of course, but because they were useful and obedient) — was more competent than most Imperial legions. He would have expected them to have no problem subduing a lone rebel fighter, even if it was one of the Jedi survivors rumored to be part of the Rebellion.
“It’s not quite so simple as that, my lord,” Piett says. “The rebel… It’s Luke Skywalker. Your son,” he adds, as though Vader might have forgotten.
The Force surges; the inside of the pod creaks, straining against the sudden pressure. “Is he secure?”
“Yes. He surrendered as soon as he came aboard.” Piett pauses. “He wasn’t even armed, my lord.”
Perhaps Luke has finally come to his senses. After the debacle on Bespin, Vader had lost all hope of that happening, but it seems he underestimated his son. Or, rather, assumed his son was more like Anakin Skywalker — a foolish idealist who never read the writing on the wall until it was too late — than not.
But this makes Vader think that Luke might have inherited Padme’s brains. He can only hope so. It will save him pain down the line.
“He’s asking for you, my lord,” adds Piett, pulling Vader out of his thoughts, which he is grateful for. He’s spent over twenty years avoiding thinking of Padme, and here is Luke, making him break the habit in the span of a few seconds. “He says he will talk to no one but you. What are your orders?”
“Hold him there,” says Vader, leaving his pod. “I’m on my way.”
He is so lost in his swirling thoughts that he almost gets turned around on his own ship, even though he spends most of his free time in the hangar. Backtracking and trying to pretend like he isn’t, he course-corrects, glaring at the technicians who witnessed the mistake, daring them to show any reaction. They, knowing full well that being fired on the Executor equaled being choked to death with the Force, kept their eyes on their work.
When Vader arrives in the hangar, the first thing he sees is the X-Wing. It’s in horrible condition, the hull clouded with carbon scoring and certain parts looking like they’re being held together with tape and string. Upon closer inspection, it seems they are being held together by tape and string.
The rebels would never have survived during the Clone Wars. Have any of them even looked at the acceptable safety standards that are outlined in every ship manual? It’s not that Vader has , but he certainly wouldn’t let his son fly around in a ship that looked like that. He files this travesty away as another reason to hate the Rebellion. The list is stretching long.
The second thing he sees is Luke, still wearing his bright orange flight suit. He’s a bright beam of sunlight against the gray and black interior of the hangar, his reflection stretching downward into the shiny black floor. The only interruption in his riot of color — orange suit and tousled blonde hair and healthy pink and tan skin — are the durasteel binders clamping his hands together in front of him.
Hands, plural. So he did manage to get a prosthetic after Cloud City. That’s a relief, at least, although Vader doesn’t doubt that it’s of a cheap, subpar design. The Rebellion doesn’t seem like the kind of organization that has the funds or time for anything else, even for the fighter who is arguably their greatest asset.
Luke. Vader stretches out to him through their bond, bracing himself for shields, for a furious Luke shoving him out, but instead he is met with an open curiosity and cautious excitement, spreading like a sunburst into his mind.
Luke grins at him. “Hey, Ipu,” he says, like they never dueled on Cloud City, like Vader isn’t the reason he’s missing a hand, like they don’t stand on opposite sides of the war, like Vader isn’t the reason his amu — how long has it been since Vader has used that word? — is dead.
Vader marches across the hangar to loom over him, arms folded. “What are you doing here?”
Luke tips his head back and back — he inherited Padme’s height, not Vader’s. “What, you’re not happy to see me?”
No. No, Vader isn’t because now he has to bring Luke before his master. Vader is barely allowed to have his ship and his crew apart from Sidious; there’s no chance that Sidious will allow him to have his son. His orders are clear. Find Luke, and bring him to Coruscant to be trained. That is the only way he is allowed to have him. “ What are you doing here? ” he repeats, far angrier at Luke’s stupidity than he expected to be. After all, it was stupidity that served Vader’s own ends, wasn’t it?
“I kind of thought it was obvious,” Luke says with a shrug, glancing between the two helmeted clone troopers that stand on either side of him. “I came to bring you over to my side.”
Beneath his helmet, Vader blinks. Forgetting for a moment the gravity a Sith Lord and leader in the Empire should maintain, he bursts out, “ You what? ” in the most incredulous voice his vocoder allows for.
Luke blinks right back. “I was just thinking, since Cloud City —” Luke lifts his hands, wiggling the fingers of his prosthetic, as if that doesn’t bring up the painful memory of yet another of Vader’s failings “— well, you said you wanted to rule the galaxy. With me.” He clears his throat. “And, I mean, you didn’t mention the Emperor in there, so I can assume you’re looking to overthrow him, right? And like, set yourself up as emperor?”
Vader hasn’t actually thought that far ahead, so he exudes noncommittal silence. At the same time, he rakes his gaze over the assembled members of his crew, cataloging who is loyal to him — and him alone — without question. The clones, Admiral Piett (thankfully, since he is the first competent admiral Vader has had), and most of the ship technicians. There are still some others, who, while they may not particularly like him, like Sidious even less.
He can work with this, provided Luke doesn’t —
“Anyway, I kept thinking it over, and since we both want the Emperor gone, we’re basically on the same side, right?” Luke points to himself. “Rebel scum.” He points to Vader. “Also, rebel scum, except you come in black.”
Provided Luke doesn’t do something like that .
“So I thought that I could come and talk you over to our side, yeah? Because it’s really only logical — although don’t tell Leia that, because she thinks I’m crazy — and you are my ipu, so I’d rather not have to — well, Ben and Master Yoda keep saying I’ll have to kill you, but I don’t want to do that, so —”
“Master Yoda’s alive?”
The look Luke gives him is suddenly cagey. “No-o… No, it’s just Ben. Sorry, slip of the tongue.” He smiles, as if that will make his obvious lie any more believable. He definitely didn’t get his amu’s brains — at least not the places it counted.
“And who is Ben?”
“You know, Ben . You killed him, on the Death Star.” Luke frowns at him. “I forgive you for that, by the way, but only because he came back as a ghost, which means he’s not actually gone , but it was still an awful thing to do, especially since he was your friend —”
“You mean Obi-Wan ?”
There’s a heavy sigh from the vicinity of Admiral Piett. Vader hears one of the clones — Cody, from the sound of it, and why did he choose to keep Anakin Skywalker’s old master’s clone general around? — mutter, “Oh, here we go again. Brace yourselves, boys. It’s another Kenobi hunt.”
“He’s dead, though,” another clone — Jesse, if the ability to state the obvious is anything to go by — says.
“Of course I mean Obi-Wan,” Luke says, rolling his eyes, apparently utterly unaware that Ben was not a common nickname for Obi-Wan, at least not back when Vader — no, Anakin Skywalker — knew him. “Who else would I mean?”
“He’s not dead ?” Vader does his best to control the Force shockwave that wants to erupt out of his chest. Throwing Luke backwards across the hangar wouldn’t make for a pleasant reunion, although it would probably stop him from continuing to imply — and outright state it — that Vader was sympathetic to the rebel cause.
Which he isn’t .
“Oh no, he’s dead,” Luke answers. “He’s a ghost.”
Strike me down, and I shall become more powerful than ever before. Of course. Of course Obi-Wan of all people would find a way to haunt the galaxy. He supposes it’s only a matter of time before Obi-Wan decides to become the poltergeist of the Executor. “Why are you here, son?” asks Vader, desperately hoping to change the subject.
“I already told you. I’m here to turn you.”
Vader took a deep, humming breath through his apparatus. “And I am mandated to bring you before my master, so he can turn you .”
“Yeah.” Luke bounces on his heels. “But you’re not going to do that.”
Oh, here he goes again. “Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I —” Vader stops, taking another deep breath. He’s not going to get into a Yes, I am, No you’re not fight with his son. He’s the second most powerful person in the Empire. It wouldn’t be dignified. “I am subject to my master.”
Luke sticks his lower lip out doubtfully. “Are you, though? That’s not what you said on Cloud City, and I remember that day pretty well because…” He holds up his prosthetic again, and Vader glowers through his mask. “So. When do you want to overthrow the Emperor? I’m free for… Well, pretty much the foreseeable future, or until Han and Leia find me.”
Silence descends on the hangar. Standing beside Vader, Piett makes a subtle sign with one hand. Every clone in the room takes a not-subtle step toward the crew members whose loyalty is in question. Every non-clone crew member whose loyalty is certain takes a large step away from those people.
And in the center of that stands Luke, utterly oblivious.
Force, he would never survive on Coruscant.
“Admiral,” Vader says stiffly, “I am going to my quarters. See that I’m not disturbed. And see that everyone on the ship understands the… situation.”
Piett didn’t rise as high as he has in Imperial ranks and managed to make a career out of being admiral to Darth Vader by asking questions or — Force forbid — sharing his opinion on his superior’s actions. “Yes, my lord.”
Nodding, Vader stalks forward, grabs Luke by the collar of his flight suit before he can say anything else damning, and marches out of the hangar, dragging his shocked and protesting son along behind him.